


permanent jet lag (please take me back)

by wanderlustnostalgia



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Based on a Fall Out Boy Song, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Overdosing, POV Second Person, Pete Wentz's Suicide Attempt (Best Buy Incident), References to Depression, Song Lyrics, Songfic, gratuitous use of fob lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:51:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustnostalgia/pseuds/wanderlustnostalgia
Summary: Ever wish you could just disappear?





	permanent jet lag (please take me back)

Ever wish you could just disappear?

Just vanish into thin air without a trace...maybe join a monastery or something radical like that?

Sounds pretty cool, right?

Float away by yourself above the clouds, no one to bother you...

Until you realize that first of all, you wouldn’t last a day in a monastery.  Their rules are too strict, their toilets are shit, and shaved heads?

_Forget about it._

Second of all, you’re fucking terrified of heights.  You can barely handle being in a plane, or even on the play structure at your old school, where there’s actual solid ground beneath your feet; how would you handle floating aimlessly without anything to hold onto?

_Clouds are not solid; they will dissipate under your feet._

And of course there’s one other pesky dilemma.

_You’re scared of being alone._

Admit it—when you’re by yourself, waiting for your mom to pick you up from the curb...when you’re the first one in class, waiting for the lesson to start...when you’re the first one awake and the last one out the door...oh, there’s nothing you hate more than being alone.

Not heights.  Not even shaved heads in monasteries.

_So why’d you do it?_

How’d you end up here in the front seat of your mom’s car, Leonard Cohen softly seeping from the radio, pills in one hand, the other on the steering wheel?

The short answer might be that you just wanted some peace and quiet; just wanted to get away from the world and its craziness, its turbulence.  A believable answer, considering all your grievances with humanity.

Oh, but the actual answer’s much more complicated than that, isn’t it?

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re here.  One of your half-conscious angry fits, probably.  Things have been so much worse lately.  Constantly tired, fatigued, barely awake, like a fog you can’t escape.  A sort of permanent jet lag, if you will.  You don’t want to be here.

At the same time, you don’t want to leave.

_**I sing the blues and swallow them too**._

Look down at the pills.  Is it worth it?

Is any of this really worth it?

Breathing just passes the time as we grow older and weaker by the second.  What does it matter, if we all die in the end?

_**Talking’s just a waste of breath.  Living’s just a waste of death.** _

You’ve said this so many times, you’re not sure it matters by now.

You take a deep breath.

_Man up, coward._

You make a decision.

Swallow the pills.

For a moment, you can feel it.  Feel yourself floating over the clouds.

You’re afraid of heights.  It’s funny, really.  But none of that matters anymore.

Hovering in the air, you can see yourself in the parking lot.  Unconscious.  Surrendered to the happy little pills.  Mouth half-open.  A ridiculous sight, really.

What else is there to do?

You laugh.


End file.
